Love For A Brother
by Smile because it happened
Summary: Sodapop and Ponyboy weren't always so close.


As I lie in bed next to my little brother and listen to him chatter excitedly about his day at school, I silently remind myself how lucky I am to have him. I turn my head to face him and watch as his eyes shine and his mouth moves rapidly, words slipping and sliding out like syrup over hot pancakes.

As far as thirteen year old kids go, Pony's pretty mature for his age, especially since the accident. But every so often something'll happen that'll drag the little kid inside him out of hiding. His mouth will open and the words will jump out and bounce around the room while his hands fly up and down, conducting the words into a vividly weaved picture of the event. I love both my brothers every singly minute of every single day but it's times like that, like _this_, that I really appreciate having a younger brother.

It hasn't always been like that though. When Pony was only a tiny little bundle of mewing cries and gaping mouth I didn't like him very much at all. Right until Mom had gone into the hospital, we'd thought Pony was gonna be a girl. Me and Darry and been left sitting in the waiting room, swinging our legs and picking our scabs, while Dad was in the delivery room with Mom. I remember Darry talking to me about our little sister, how we'd have to look after her because she was going to be smaller than us. I promised Darry I'd share my toys with her and let her have the prize from the Lucky Charms box. Darry told me I'd be a good big brother, although not quite as good as him yet, because he'd had more practice.

When Dad had rushed out, eyes shiny with tears, and started to tell us about our new baby brother, I'd burst into tears. I remember feeling so angry at being cheated out of my perfect little sister that nothing could ever be right again, no matter how happy my Dad looked.

Dad let us go in and see Mom and the baby, even though we had to be very quiet and very careful because Mom was tired and the baby was still new. Darry leaned eagerly over the bundle clutched in Mom's arms, standing on tip-toes to get a better peek while I kept my head stubbornly buried in Dad's shoulder and refused to look.

People told my Mom that things would get easier once she bought the baby, now christened Ponyboy, home. They said I'd get used to him in no time and that we'd end up as thick as thieves, just you wait and see. In reality, things got worse when Mom bought Ponyboy home. He took up almost all of my parents' time, time that used to be spent playing with me and Darry. Mom and Dad were almost always grumpy now, meaning they were quick to shout and punish, because Ponyboy kept them awake at night crying. They never got mad at Ponyboy though, only at me.

Then there was the fact that Ponyboy had been given all my old baby things, like my crib, my bottles, my clothes and my baby toys. Even though I hadn't used any of them for at least a couple of years I still felt resentful, like Ponyboy was creeping up behind me and stealing my place in the family. And, to top it all off, the baby wasn't even any fun. All he did was cry and poop - I couldn't understand why everyone else was so fascinated by him.

What made everything worse was the fact that no one else seemed to agree with me, not even Darry! When I'd tried to get him to tell Mom and Dad to take Ponyboy back to the hospital and switch him for the little sister we'd been promised, he'd laughed at me and called me a Stupidhead. At least I had Steve on my side, he hated Ponyboy just as much as I did although in hindsight he was probably just copying me. We'd sit together in our clubhouse in the linen closet and plot ways to get rid of Ponyboy. None of them ever worked of course, so we contented ourselves by poking Ponyboy to make him cry or stealing his pacifier and hiding his toys. I still feel guilty about those things, even though I know there's no way Pony can remember them.

As Pony grew bigger, even I had to admit he got a little bit less boring. Even so, I still didn't want to spend any time playing with him. I was really into toy cars at that age, me and Steve would sit on the living room floor and race them across the room, and the one occasion I tried to involve Ponyboy in our game all he'd wanted to do was put the cars in his mouth. I gave up with him after that. Darry loved teaching Ponyboy new things, I've never seen Darry look prouder than the time he managed to coax Ponyboy into wriggling across the floor on his belly by bribing him with an Oreo, and would spend hours with him whereas I just found the whole process tedious.

But, even at only one year old, Ponyboy was showing signs of the stubborn streak that would only grow stronger as he grew up. From the moment he could crawl, he began to follow me around the house, reaching for me with his small starfish hands. The more I pushed him away, the harder he tried to get close to me. Mom told me I should be flattered but I just found it annoying and even, after some convincing from Steve, bought into his philosophy that Ponyboy was doing it on purpose just to spite me. Mine and Steve's games evolved from poking Ponyboy and hiding his toys to leading Ponyboy into a room, then hiding from him and sniggering together as he sat on the floor looking heartbroken at the abandonment.

It was during one of these games that my feelings towards Ponyboy were changed forever. Steve and I had led Ponyboy into the living room then quickly climbed up onto the couch where Ponyboy couldn't reach us (climbing was completely beyond his capability at the time, he couldn't even walk yet). Pony had started up at us bewilderedly from where he sat on the floor while me and Steve jumped up and down on the couch and laughed at him. Then suddenly Ponyboy had reached up and grabbed hold of the corner of the couch and used it to awkwardly pull himself to his feet. Me and Steve watched awe struck as Ponyboy swayed uncertainly, he'd certainly never done that before!

What happened next was one of the most truly terrifying experiences of my life. I've relived it time and time again and had nightmares where the outcome is different and woken up in a cold sweat. I remember Ponyboy's look of wonder as he stares down at his feet, like he was as surprised by this new development as me and Steve were. Then he turns his gaze to me and his little mouth turns up into a smile, showing off the brand new teeth he'd sobbed and sobbed over. Our eyes meet and he lets go of the couch to reach for me, tottering forward on his shaky baby legs. I open my mouth to shout encouragement, much as I dislike him even I know this is a big deal, when suddenly he stumbles.

I watch him fall forward in slow motion, watch his fragile little head smash into the coffee table so hard it bounces before he falls down onto the floor. For a moment I can't even breathe, let alone move. Then the panic sets in and I jerk into action, slipping down from the couch and rushing to his side. Steve remains on the cushions, frozen in fear. I turn Ponyboy over onto his back, pulling his head into my lap. His eyes stare back at me glazed and unseeing and he's not moving. I kneel on the floor, cradling my baby brother and for about twenty seconds I think he might be dead. In the midst of that gulf of horror that will haunt me for years afterwards, I realise I really do love him after all. It must have snuck up on me when I wasn't looking.

From that moment on, Ponyboy became the most important person in my life. I knew from the moment his eyes slid slowly open and a terrified, pain filled scream escaped his throat that I was going to love him and care for him and protect him forever. And I have. Even so, every so often I like to check, just to make sure that he knows how much he means to me and how sorry I am for hating him all through that horrible first year.

"Pone," I blurt suddenly, knowing I'm interrupting his story but unable to stop the words from slipping out.

"Hm?" He says, turning to look at me, not seeming to mind that I just cut him off mid-sentence.

"I love you."

"I know." He replies simply, smiling softly. Then he shakes his head and his face becomes animated again. "And then, Alex Peterson, who's a real moron by the way, stands up and punches him in the face. It was like, the coolest thing ever, y'know…apart from the blood."

He looks at me expectantly, like he's waiting for a reaction. I shake my head and grin broadly because things between me and Ponyboy really couldn't be anymore perfect, even if my little brother never realises that him surviving that fall was probably the best thing that's ever happen to me. Then I can't help but dig my fingers into his ribs and tickle him until he cries, being careful not to let him fall out of bed and crack his head open of course.

I mean, what sorta big brother do you take me for?

* * *

_Well, there you go. I know I should be working on my other stories but this one just came out of no where and wouldn't leave me alone until I'd written it. Most of my fics focus on the Pony/Darry relationship and I've never written a Soda/Pony brother fic before so I hope I pulled it off ok. _

_I guess I should probably just say thanks to my younger sister and brother, even though I'm sure they'll never read this, because without them this foc probably wouldn't be here! Anyway I hope people enjoyed this, let me know what you thought in a review ok?_


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